Dispatch #150
a morning tanka for late risers
The gift is to wake nameless, wordless, without form in a room without walls, the shapeless bright, the breath cleaving a self from silence.
The gift is to wake nameless, wordless, without form in a room without walls, the shapeless bright, the breath cleaving a self from silence.
Beautiful
". . . the breath / cleaving a self . . ." This part really hit me. It's just. So. True. Thank you for this! 🙏☺️